Surviving the Doctor
by scarlet phlame
Summary: Ashley's guide of how to survive life aboard the TARDIS. Because, when it comes down to it, you're probably most likely to die from a mental breakdown after spending too much time with HIM.
1. Chapter 1

Journal Entry #456

This is Ashley. I'm currently in the TARDIS. And... to be honest, I'm kind of freaked out. Let me explain.

The Doctor just discovered this thing called 'Twitter'. I thought he might not like it much, but, boy, was I wrong. When I tell you this, you should be scared. Very, very scared.

The Doctor hasn't left his room all day. I think Twitter might've broken him or something. He isn't functioning normally, or coming around to bug me about throwing out all the rotten bananas in the kitchen. (Which is disgusting, and I don't care if his time sense can make them fresh again. It's gross.)

But that's off topic.

He's also making me awfully nervous.

I feel as if the only reason I'm around here is so he can talk to someone, and now that he's got Twitter, he can talk to other people. (Well, not really, he hasn't got any followers, but he'll think he's talking to someone when he's really just talking to himself.)

Actually, if I think about it, Twitter's not that much different than me. He thinks we're both listening, but, honestly, we're not.

Strange.

Not only that, but this place is driving me MAD. The entire kitchen has nothing but bananas. Banana-flavored cupcakes, banana-flavored donuts. You don't even want to know. He's even got this banana slicer thing. You know, like a banana slicer shaped like... well, a banana. And other things that I don't think I'll write about. (Boy, good thing I didn't bring my ex on board or he would freak about about that one.)

Also, he's starting to piss me off a bit, to be honest. He doesn't even tell me anything that's going on until it's over. Like if we run into aliens trying to suck my guts out, he won't tell me what they are or what planet they're from until AFTER everything's over. I know I won't know what planet he's talking about anyway, but it doesn't matter.

Anywhovian, I think I'd better go get him now. He's been on my cell for eleven hours... and he'll fall at the Eleventh Hour unless I help him.

-Ashley (Yes, Doctor, my name is AshLEY, not Ashey.)


	2. Chapter 2

Journal Entry #546

Huh? What's that? Well, this isn't really my 546th journal entry. It just sounds cooler if you write that at the beginning.

At the moment, I am trying to keep the Doctor away from all social media sites. Luckily, he doesn't know what a hashtag is yet, so I should be okay for the moment. (At least, until he sees someone say it on Tumblr and pesters me until I tell him.)

Personally, I sometimes wonder what's going through his head. Probably Twitter and bananas, but that's not the point.

He keeps on putting me in danger. Like, MORTAL danger. Just last week, there was this centipede in my room. Which was DISGUSTING. I hate centipedes.

Except it wasn't a centipede, really. It was one of those little alien pest thingies that grows bigger and bigger like *snap* that. And guess what? It grows by eating fabric and wool. I will forever mourn my nice blue cardigan. (On the other hand, I got it to take a big chunk out of Six's Technicolor Dreamcoat, which was a bit nice.)

Long story short? If this ever happens to you, be sure to tell the Doctor if there's a giant-a$$ caterpillar thing in your room.

He's under the console doing stuff with the TARDIS most of the time. Quite honestly, I think he's obsessed with this thing. Personally, the TARDIS drives me insane. She keeps moving my bathroom around.

Let me explain. If I think, 'I want to use the restroom', she'll move it right in front of my face. There is literally NO WAY to make a map of the TARDIS. And it's not as if I can ask her to stop it. I swear to God, I am getting so used to it, one day I'm gonna go into my house on Earth and bump into walls all the time.

Also, he plays music NONSTOP. There's this little button on the TARDIS and I guess it just plays whatever he wants to listen to. But once he discovers a new song, he puts it on repeat for HOURS STRAIGHT until you think your ears are gonna bleed. I'd rather listen to him talk, because at least he doesn't sing 'Firework' for eight hours straight. (But I wouldn't put it past him.)

Though I guess I haven't been doing much either, but screaming. Literally, if I'm not in the TARDIS pissed off, I'm on some alien planet a thousand miles from Earth screaming my face off at aliens of death trying to kill us.

Anyway...

-Ashley


	3. Chapter 3

Journal Entry #656

Ok. Someone save me. Someone, something, anyone, ANYTHING.

The Doctor has discovered my Facebook account.

LORD HELP ME. That's from when I was fifteen and nuts about Doctor Who. I know I'm, like, 24 right now, and that's ten years ago, but it FREAKS ME OUT. The things I used to say!

Not to mention that my ENTIRE wall is about Doctor Who.

If he's creeped out by me already, God knows how he's gonna react to my Facebook.

Maybe I can just tell him 'OverobsessedDoctorWhoFan192802' isn't me. And the picture of them that looks almost identical to me is just someone who... stole my picture. Or something.

...I need help. Badly.

On the other hand, the TARDIS won't let me go into Rose's room. I know, I'm really nosy, but every time I walk down the hallway to find it, she moves it around.

I just really wanna see her room, that's all!

-Ashley


End file.
